Love is Timing
by MercurialParadox
Summary: Plagued by nightmares about Voldemort, Hermione travels back in time to figure out the source of her dreams and, in the meantime, discovers the true meaning of love, cruelty and sacrifice.
1. Real Dreaming

Hello! I honestly don't know what's come over me but I recently reread _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_ and for some reason a weird idea started to form in my head. I don't know if I'll follow through because, I'm telling you right now, I'm pretty flaky. Anyhow, this chapter's pretty dry and I'll be uploading the second one quite soon. Enjoy!

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" _Please. Please! I beg of you! Take me instead! Not her-". A flash of green light is the only response and, as a young girl crumples to the floor, her face frozen in an expression of horror, the man shouts in a panic, rushing over to kneel over her still warm body._

" _Tell me what I want to know and you will go unharmed." Whispers the cold, high voice beneath the black hood. The man continues to sob, lifting a trembling hand to brush away a stray strand of hair that has fallen across the girl's pale face. He refuses to look at his addresser. With a flick of a pale hand the young man flies backwards, his body slamming into the cellar wall at full force._

" _I have grown impatient," The voice is spoken softly, but with a hard malice. "Tell me where she is or I will make your death a very painful one." The man's eyes widen in fear and despair as he realizes the futility of his resistance._

" _She-, she-." He stops speaking, entranced by the two red, snakelike eyes staring at him from underneath the hood. He feels his head start to ache, as if it is being probed, the memories sifted through._

" _I have what I need now." The cold voice says and with another flick of his wand, the young man falls over, dead._

"Hermione!" Two strong hands shook her from her sleep. Her eyes opened to find Ron, gazing down at her, a concerned expression fixed on his face.

"I had a dream about You-Know-Who again." She said, putting a hand to her clammy forehead. "He killed this man and his child and he wanted to know, he wanted to know- ". She frowned. "He was looking for someone, a woman, I think."

Ron gazed at her silently before he said, "I'm worried, 'mione. Why do you keep having these dreams?" He stopped, taking her slender hand in his, before resuming. "It's been 5 years. You-Know-Who's gone and everything's alright."

"I know that, but then why are these dreams plaguing me?" She whispered, looking pleadingly at Ron.

"I'm not sure, but I know this can't be healthy. We'd better tell Harry and see if he knows anything about it." He brushed his hand against her cheek tenderly, before getting up to disappear into his room.

Hermione sighed, flopping back against her pillows to stare at the ceiling. There were so many things she wanted to know. Who was that man and his child? Their faces had seemed hauntingly familiar, yet she was certain that she had never met them in real life. She glanced back towards the door through which Ron had recently exited.

She sighed again, her thoughts turning to her life. She should be happy, she knew she should be happy. The war had been over for years, she and Ron now shared a flat near the Burrow, her job at the Ministry was one she enjoyed and her life was filled daily with friends and colleagues, all whom she admired and respected. Yet, despite all this, Hermione had recently started feeling an emptiness, a discontentment that could not be eradicated. Her life, although filled with purpose, did not inspire her to _have_ purpose.

It was an uneasy thought, one which made her feel guilty whenever she was around Ron or Harry as she knew that they earnestly wanted everyone to feel, to _be_ truly happy. And that, she wasn't.

Ok, I know this chapter's pretty lifeless but I'm still fleshing out details and stuff like that. Anyhoo- see you soon!


	2. In Sickness and in Health

_Ok, so I just read this over and there are two tea scenes and I didn't realize this. If you don't like this fact, I'm sorry but a majority of my living thoughts are, I confess, about tea. Also, I do admit that my writing can be quite dry, so although the plot will (I hope) get more exciting, my style of writing will not so if you don't like this chapter, I don't recommend you continue the series (presuming I get around to posting). Okay, enough of this rambling self-deprecation. Enjoy!_

In Sickness and in Health

"Dreams? About Voldemort?" Harry was astounded. It was a sunny afternoon, and the two were sitting in Hermione's cosy living room, drinking hot mugs of Chamomile tea in front of the large window overlooking a peaceful, countryside landscape. Harry was surprised when Hermione shared her nightmares with him. Although she could be quite fragile, he knew she hadn't had any personal contact with Voldemort and he had never done anything to directly harm her. If anything, Harry would have thought that Hermione would be having nightmares about Bellatrix.

Hermione twisted her hands together before saying, "Yes. They aren't just dreams, but, I think, memories." She shifted uneasily. "The only dreams I have of You-Know-Who are ones where he is killing or torturing people. I think," She hesitated. "I think that he's looking for someone. He always asks his victims, 'Where is she?' before killing them. Do you know of any girl he might have been looking for? Ever?"

Harry frowned, deep in thought. "Bellatrix, perhaps? I'm not sure." He glanced quickly at Hermione, his eyes contemplative. "This must have taken place before we were born, in any case, if he had that much liberty to do as he pleased."

"So, you think that what I'm dreaming of is real?" Hermione asked. He hesitated before answering, unsure of how to reply.

"I-We know that he is gone. However, I've seen enough to understand that magic has its own agenda. Sometimes the things that are unbelievable are what we must believe in the most." He finally replied. "When incidences like this occur, it would probably be unwise to ignore them." He thrust an impatient hand through his unruly, dark hair, making it, if possible, even more disorderly than before. "I just can't see any connection, though."

They both sat in silence, lost in deep reflection.

Glancing at his watch, he rose suddenly, scooping up his thick, maroon jumper and striding over to Hermione to give her a quick peck on the cheek. "Thank you for the tea, it was wonderful. I need to get going, though," He grimaced, before continuing. "Me and Gin have to go to this Couple Prenatal Class at St. Mungo's. They're teaching us how to change diapers and stuff like that." He shuddered at the thought and muttered to himself, "Honestly, you'd think they'd have created _spells_ for that sort of thing."

Hermione suppressed a grin, before standing up herself to walk Harry to the door.

"I know you'll be great. Just practice and everything will go just fine." She reassured him, seeing the worry in his eyes. "You were always destined to be a great father."

He smiled back, before saying seriously, "I'll see what I can find out about this dream situation. Obviously, there is a meaning behind it."

Hermione nodded, a weary and tired expression on her face.

"But don't worry too much," Harry added hastily. "We'll figure it out. I mean, my best friend's the smartest girl in the country. Have you met her?"

She rolled her eyes at his poor joke, but smiled nonetheless.

"And if it's really worrying you, just remember," He smiled slightly, tapping at his lightning scar with a happy finger. "He's gone. He can't get to you, even if he tried."

She nodded, coughing slightly.

* * *

Weeks went by but Hermione heard no news from Harry. She did, however, meet with Ginny to discuss her impending pregnancy. They met at Rosa Lee Teabag on a calmer side of Diagon Alley.

"Sorry _**cough**_ I'm late!" Hermione stammered out as she joined Ginny at their table near the fireplace. "I just had some _**cough**_ work to do at the Ministry. There's a goblin sponsored Repossession Contract I've been working on and-"A bout of coughing interrupted Hermione's next sentence.

Ginny was torn between smiling exasperatedly at Hermione's decision to work _willingly_ on a Sunday or bring up her concern over her friend's obviously serious cold.

She chose the latter. "Hermione, are you alright? That doesn't sound like a light cough." She said frowningly.

Hermione flapped a hand dismissively. "Oh, you know. It's just the winter season." She croaked. Waving Madame Lee over, she asked for a hot Earl Grey tea.

"Oh nonsense, dear. From the looks of it, you need a steaming Ginger Hibiscus tea to relax those poor vocal cords." And with a soft swish of her layered skirts, she glided off. She returned a few minutes later with the tea and a box of Parisian macarons ("One field we can't beat the French in, I'm afraid").

"So, how's the pregnancy going?" Hermione asked, smiling at Ginny.

"Oh, perfectly well, I suppose." The pretty redhead said cheerily. "The baby does kick A LOT though. Honestly, sometimes I feel like a bludger, being tossed around." But despite all that, Hermione could see that Ginny enjoyed being pregnant; she glowed with a happiness that was palpable to everyone around her.

"What do you think you'll name him?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Well, we sort of agreed that if he has dark hair then we'll name him James and if he has red hair we'll name him after Dad." Ginny replied. She stopped as she saw Hermione overcome by another bout of coughing.

"You know, maybe we should do this another time." Ginny said worriedly. "I don't want you to get any worse than this."

Hermione pasted on a bright, insincere smile. "Oh, it's nothing. I get these little things all the time."

"Have you been to Mungo's yet? I really think that you should get it checked." She leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "You know, one time, my cousin Barty thought he had gotten Muggle Pox but 2 weeks later when it hadn't gone away and he had turned the color of seaweed, they went to the hospital and they discovered that he had," She paused dramatically, "Dragon Pox!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, smiling.

"I'm serious!" Ginny continued, "In fact, he still has a greenish hue if you look at him in a certain light…"

"Ok." She coughed. "If I get any worse than this, I promise I will visit St. Mungo's, ok?"

They walked along Diagon Alley, poring over books (Hermione) and studying new broomstick handles (Ginny), discussing what was going on in the Ministry while wolfing down their steadily depleting supply of macarons. A few hours later they said their farewells, with Ginny telling Hermione to give Ron a hug for her.

Hermione hadn't walked two steps in the opposite direction before she felt the world give a terrifying jolt and she felt her legs collapse beneath her.

"Hermione!" Ginny rushed towards her, helping her up. Hermione got up weakly, still mildly dizzy.

Ginny put a hand to her forehead before pulling back, exclaiming, "Merlin's Beard! Hermione, you've got to get to St. Mungo's right away-you're forehead's burning!"

Hermione felt rather cold all over, but she smiled and said brightly, "Oh, very well. I'm sure it's just a slight fever but I'll Apparate over there tonight if you _truly_ insist."

"I do." Ginny said firmly. "And if I didn't have my second Ultrasound with Harry tonight, I would come with you, but I'm trusting you to recognize that your health is one of the most important factors in your life."

Hermione nodded defeatedly and Ginny gave her a gentle hug, before both stepped away from each other and apparated their separate ways.

* * *

"From your descriptions, of heavy coughing, perpetual cold, sudden weakness and dizziness _and_ our tests, we have, shall I say, found a disease that is identical to the one you described, Ms. Granger." Said the Healer, his face glowing from little droplets of sweat that had appeared beneath a balding forehead.

"And my dreams about You-Know-Who?" Hermione asked. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Ah, yes, although it is uncommon, hallucinations may also be a symptom." The Healer replied, his eyes darting around the room, in an effort to avoid her face.

"But how can they be hallucinations if they're real?" She asked.

He finally looked at her, or rather, stared at her as though she were a complicated math puzzle that he didn't particularly want to solve. She stared at him defiantly, and he looked away.

Heaving a sigh of frustration, she said, "Alright. Suppose my dreams aren't real. What am I being diagnosed with. It's just a cold, isn't it? Or is it maybe the flu?"

"There's no easy way to say this," said the Healer before taking a deep breath. "I'm afraid that you've been diagnosed with Morbus Frigidus." Receiving no response, he continued. "It is an affliction very similar to what Muggles would call 'Hypothermia' however it contrasts in that the cause of its development is not extreme cold. The effects of this disease can- "

"Can be temporarily mitigated for a few months if the patient is treated accordingly, with proper rest and care, however the ultimately fatal disease can be prevented no longer than half a year before its properties will take full effect, I know." Hermione said, staring in shock at the Healer.

She met his pitying eyes and he flushed, looking away guiltily.

"Is there anyone you'd like me to contact?" He asked gruffly. "Anyone I can- "

"No. Thank you. My only request is that I live out the rest of my life in my own home. I don't want to spend my last few months in the hospital."

The Healer opened his mouth, as if to protest, but finally gave a little nod. He pointed his wand at her head, muttering a spell that Hermione recognized as a Tracking spell.

"During your, erm, last few, uh, hours," he said, visibly uncomfortable. "This spell will immediately bring you here, to St. Mungo's so that your passing will be in comfort and of course for… err, public records." He rubbed his neck awkwardly.

Looking at the scene, Hermione thought, any onlooker would probably have thought that the _doctor_ had just been the one to receive news of his imminent death.


	3. Breaking Up

Hello Dearest Readers, I sincerely apologize for this late chapter (I am trying to submit a chapter each week- god knows how long that will last). I also looked over the other chapter and I realized that my page breaks did not show up and I tried all these different tactics to get breaks but nothing worked and uhhhh, I just can't. I also wanted to say that Hermione's decision to leave Ron was just a part of the framework of the story and I regret if any Ron-Hermione lovers are reading this; they're not going to be together in this fanfic. BUT I did try to portray Ron in a more serious, sensitive light because I hate reading fanfics where Ron and Harry are either insensitive a**holes or just these empty headed idiots. Also the Malfoy development (that you will read about)- well, let's just say that I didn't anticipate it going that far- ahhh, enough spoilers. Okay, Enjoy!

Hermione walked down the street in a shocked daze. She didn't feel the darkness enshrouding her small figure nor the biting wind that reddened her pale face and circled threateningly around her ankles. No, weather was the last thing on her mind.

If one looked closely enough, they would be able to see the tear tracks that seemed permanently etched on her cheeks.

"I don't want to die." She said to the empty street. "I DON'T WANT TO DIE!" She screamed, more tears rushing from her eyes. She stopped, covering her face with her hands. "I don't deserve this." She whispered despairingly to herself.

So absorbed was she in her thoughts that she failed to notice the shadow that appeared under the softly illuminated lamp post.

"Well, well." Drawled a voice, one that sounded terribly familiar. Hermione looked up, and felt her heart start to pound as she recognized the sleek blonde hair that rested atop a very handsome, albeit condescending, face. Draco Malfoy.

After the War, the Malfoys had retreated from society for a few years. However, Draco had finished his education at Hogwarts and then immediately joined an upper branch of the Department of Magical Enforcement, working with the Minister of Magic on a highly-speculated project. Word had it that he had managed to triple the family fortune by creating a network of highly trained guards that were now guarding Azkaban and other dangerous institutions in replacement of the now banished Dementors. Hermione had listened to all of this rather disinterestedly, from her colleagues in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Now she wished she had paid more attention to the gossip.

Hermione rubbed her eyes, trying to get rid of any traces of weakness in front of her old nemesis.

"Why are you out so late?" She demanded, glaring at him under the lamplight.

"Look who's talking," He smirked. "I was about to ask you the same question, Granger."

She glared at his casual use of her name. "I don't think that's any of your business." She turned around to walk in the opposite direction. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must get going."

Before she had taken one step, however, he had pulled her arm back and twisted it around her back, so that her body was glued against his. She tried to free herself, but Malfoy had her in an iron grip.

"I asked what you were doing here." He snarled softly. "It's not safe to be out on the streets past midnight, especially if you're a pretty, young woman."

She almost laughed disbelievingly. Was that concern she detected in his tone? Who was she kidding. Malfoy, afraid for her safety? That would be the day.

"If you must know, I was doing some very important research on a Goblin Rights assignment and due to a- complication I was instructed to perform an inspection on this street." She said frostily.

She felt him smile against her forehead. "Ah, of course." He replied, his smooth tone implying that he had not believed her lie for a moment. "Knockturn Alley is very much a street through which Goblin welfare can be established."

Hermione's stomach twisted uncomfortably. She hated lying, but what she hated more was her rather trapped state, both physically and conversationally.

She squirmed helplessly and he whispered into her ear, "Keep struggling, sweetheart. I like it."

She stopped immediately, trying desperately to think of possible wandless spells that could get her out of Draco's arms. She realized that she really didn't know him, not at all. He could still be a Mudblood Hater, or even a serial killer, after all.

As she looked up at him with scared eyes, he bent down and kissed her with ruthless precision, assaulting her mouth with hot kisses. She responded with fierce passion, wrapping her freed hands around his neck and pulling him closer. She moaned, as he began to trail kisses along her jaw, one hand clenching a fistful of her hair. He moulded her body to his, running soft fingers down her waist and the back up her spine. Hermione shuddered with shy pleasure. Her eyes glazed over with passion, she didn't notice when Malfoy suddenly stopped, looking down at the helpless woman he held in his arms.

"It's nice to know you can't resist me." He drawled, satisfaction lacing his tone. Hermione stumbled back from him, a hand to her mouth as she stared at him in horror. Merlin, what had she just done? What was she going to say to Ron?

As if he had read her thoughts, he murmured, "You can do better than that insufferable Weasley."

Hermione backed away, turning before she broke into a run, along the dark streets of Diagon Alley, Malfoy already forgotten. What was she going to do? She couldn't go back to Ron and expect him to take her back after this. What she'd done was unforgivable; she'd kissed a Malfoy and actually liked it. She'd betrayed him and she had done it willingly. As she turned the options over in her mind, she kept returning to the only one possible.

She had no choice. She'd have to break up with Ron. She hoped he wouldn't miss her when she was gone.

~~~~~~0~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~S~~~~~~~~~~~~~~0~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~S~~~~~~~~~~~~~~0~~~~~~~~S

When she got back to their apartment, it was dark. She crept silently inside, taking off her coat and boots, and padding slowly into the living room. She quickly muttered, "Muffliato" before summoning all of her belongings, clothing and luggage, packing it all together and zipping it firmly, banishing the black grief that seemed ready to overwhelm her.

She put this in her room, before creeping into Ron's room, where he lay on his back, snoring. An endearing smile crossing her face, she slipped under the covers and snuggled up to Ron, knowing that this would be the last time. Sensing her presence, he dropped his arm around her, pulling her closer.

"'Mione", he mumbled sleepily.

"Mmmm?" She whispered, her hand gently stroking his temple.

"Love you."

As she lay in Ron's arms, with the taste of another man on her lips, she knew she didn't deserve him.

~~~~~~~0~~~~~~~~~~~~~S~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~0~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~S~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~0~~~~~~~~~S

When she woke up in the morning, Ron had already gone to work. There was a note on his pillow and she picked it up.

'Mione,

I let you sleep since you looked too peaceful to wake up. Gin also owled me about your cold and I think you should stay in bed for a few days, just until this gets better. I've prepared some tea for you on the kitchen counter and there's some leftovrr of the tart that Mum brought over last timmy she visited. Anyways, I need too get to werk now so have funnel!

XOXO- Roonil Wazlib

As she finished the letter she felt a surge of loneliness. There were so many aspects of her life that she had taken for granted, like Ron's terrible but sweet letters, always "checked" by the Self-Spelling Quill or the way that he always seemed to fuss over little things that bothered her.

She stayed at home, pacing the living room for what seemed like hours. She didn't notice the severity of the coughs that seemed to rack her lungs of air or the shooting pain that seemed to attack her stomach every hour. Her guilt over Malfoy's kiss and her sorrow over her loss of, not just a partner, but also a friend kept her preoccupied as to whether leaving was truly the right choice.

When Ron came home, she knew what had to be done.

0~~~~~~~~~~~~0~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~S~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~0~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~S~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~0~

"I think we should break up." She said this stiffly as she looked out the window, her back to him. She gazed unseeingly at the soft flakes of snow that fell silently passed their window, some clinging tenaciously to the glass before slowly melting away.

"What?" Ron looked up from the papers he was frowning at. "What did you say?"

She turned to face him. "I said, I think we should break up."

"Bloody- Hermione, what's going on?" He said, looking as though he couldn't believe it.

"Let's be honest, we aren't exactly the Couple of the Year, are we?" She said quite coldly. "And I wouldn't exactly call the shop clerk at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes a catch, would you?"

Ron's ears turned beet red with shame and embarrassment. "Well, I- "

"What? You couldn't even get a job as an Auror's assistant?" She said scathingly. "God, who'd have thought I'd be stuck dating a child."

"Is this how you've always felt about me, Hermione? I didn't know you to be so… so cold-blooded. You sound like bloody Malfoy!" He couldn't keep the hurt from his voice.

"Yes, well, sometimes it's the only way to get through to you." She retorted.

"What, to degrade me by patronising my job? To compare me to Harry?" He shouted, losing his temper.

"Maybe it would do you some good." She shouted back. "Maybe instead of fooling around with those stupid toys, you'd use magic to make yourself useful in this world!"

"God, Mum was right about you! You really are power hungry! Going after Harry and Krum just because they're successful and famous and stamping on people like me because we can't live up to your expectations!" He shouted bitterly.

She looked momentarily stunned (and hurt) before replying nastily, "And what's so wrong with that? Men who can take care of themselves and not go crying to Mummy- ".

"Merlin, you're a bitch!" He snarled, before he could stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

Before she could reply, she was overcome by a bout of coughing, doubling over at the waist to lessen the pain. Ron moved quickly to help her but she cringed away as if disgusted by his touch.

"Stay away from me," she rasped, her throat hurting terribly. He withdrew his hand, more upset than surprised.

"What have I done wrong?" His voice took on a pleading note, as he gently reached out to take her hand. "You don't want to do this. And I know what you said earlier… you can't really mean it, Hermione. Tell me whatever's wrong and I'll fix it."

Removing her hand disgustedly, she quickly turned away from him, coughing slightly. "It's too late. Y-you can't fix it."

"But-" He protested.

"No. No, just leave me alone." She turned to him once again, her face had turned quite pale but the hatred in her voice remained. "I don't need you. I don't even want you." She walked calmly to her bedroom, where two suitcases where stationed neatly near a newly stripped bed.

"But," his voice was laced with pained desperation as he surveyed the now unfamiliar room. "What if I need you?" He asked, his eyes blurring over with tears, as he watched her pick up her suitcases and walk to the door.

She stopped at his plea, staring at the door. Her back seemed unnaturally stiff as though she too was holding back suppressed emotions.

But he must have imagined this, he knew, as she turned slightly and said coldly, "Not everything is about you, Ronald." With these words, she disappeared with a loud CRACK.

Ron looked down at his hands and he felt anger and pain and loneliness seep through him. He supposed he had expected this day to come, he thought bitterly. He had been elated when she'd asked him to be in a relationship, although he'd always known that he would never be enough for her, that he didn't deserve her.

He looked around at the flat that they had bought so happily just three years ago. The apartment now seemed cold to him. Cold and unfamiliar.


	4. Library of Shadows

**Library of Shadows**

Hermione took two steps into her new apartment before she collapsed into the nearest arm chair and wept.

Tears fell for herself and for Ron, for the life that was slowly slipping away from her, for the utter uncertainty of death.

She stared, unseeing, curled in her chair, until she finally drifted off into a restless sleep.

~~~O~~~

 _A blood-curdling scream fills the air. A woman, with long blonde hair, is suspended in the air, her back arched at an unnatural angle as she screams in pain._

" _I don't have anything else! Please! PLEASE!" She breaks into convulsive spasms as thousands of tiny needles seem to pierce her body all at once._

" _You are lying," says the voice silkily beneath the hooded cloak. "I have it on good authority that you hold the key to the famed Library of Shadows."_

" _What?" The woman gaps in horror, as she struggles to turn her head to her tormentor. "How did you know that?!" She flinches as she catches sight of the eyes beneath the cloak. There is a frightening beauty in that cold, steadfast gaze. Slowly, holding her stare in his, he raises his arm to gesture to something from the corner of the room._

 _A tall man calmly steps out of the shadows and walks to the centre of the room to gaze down at the young woman. She recoils in horror as she recognizes his face. "Alistair! What are you doing here?" Realization dawns on her face. "You are working for You-Know-Who."_

 _The man nods, his jaw clenching for a moment, as he continues to look down at the girl._

 _Her face seems to crumple in on itself. A sea of hurt and pain rushes through her as she gazes at the man who has betrayed her. "I loved you," she whispers. "How could you do this to me?"_

 _A high, cold laugh fills the air that sends shivers down the woman's spine. "Ah, love." The hooded figure sneers. "A useless, tepid emotion that fools use to become spineless, artless animals. Tell me, girl, what has love ever done for you?"_

 _When she says nothing the Dark Lord continues, "What is love in the stead of loyalty? Or trust? These attributes are far more powerful than the_ love _you mortals pander after. Nott, a most faithful servant, chose love over loyalty in an instant."_

 _Alistair Nott, bends over to whisper in his lover's ear, "You think that I could love a slut like you? A rich, spoiled heiress whose only quality is that of being pure blooded?" He smiles coldly. "Oh my dear, apart from being a silly little toy that I used to serve my Master, you are nothing to me." He slides one soft finger down her cheek to trace a faded tear track. "You were good in the sack, though. Like a bitch in the heat."_

 _The life in the woman's eyes seems to fade away to leave a parody, a skeleton of a human. She turns her head back to the Dark Lord, staring at him unseeingly. Even when the pain is inflicted on her worn body, even as she confesses all she knows about her family's infamous Library of Shadows, her empty eyes cling to his._

 _They leave her in a senseless heap on her bedroom floor. Killing her is not necessary; she is already broken._

 ** _~~~O~~~_**

"No!" Hermione screamed, as she woke up covered in droplets of sweat. She groped unconsciously for Ron, before remembering that he was gone. A gripping cough consumed her entire being, overwhelming her with its devouring presence. It lasted for several minutes and, as she attempted to move weakly towards the kitchen, a sudden dizziness overcame her, sending the whole world spinning around her in a blur.

She felt herself hit the ground, before the door creaked open.


	5. Morning, Sunshine

Hermione opened her eyes drowsily. Soft morning rays gently filtered in from her window, giving the room a more cheerful look than the previous night. She stretched luxuriously, giving a contented yawn.

At the foot of her bed, a furry ginger ball bristled its fur slightly before returning to its contented slumber. Hermione frowned slightly. She'd left Crookshanks at Ron's; how had he gotten here?

She froze when she saw the tall figure in the doorway staring back at her. Malfoy was leaning against the doorframe, his hands resting casually in his pockets as he gazed insolently at the young woman covered only by a thin bedsheet.

Hermione looked down, blushing furiously at the transparency of her sheet and the obvious nakedness that lay underneath. To her shame, a feeling of embarrassment and helplessness rushed through her. She turned her head away from Malfoy's penetrating gaze, afraid of what she would see if she looked into his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" She demanded hotly. "Get out!"

Malfoy eyed her thoughtfully before slowly walking towards her. Hermione shrank back against her pillows but Malfoy just sat down on the chair that stood beside her bed.

"Do you know where you are?" He asked Hermione, his eyes resting on her stubbornly downturned face.

"Probably in one of your illicit underground hideouts." She replied scornfully, a knot of panic beginning to form inside her stomach. She sensed his anger before she felt it; hard fingers grasped her chin, turning her face to his.

"Look at me." He commanded softly, meeting her wary brown eyes with his steely ones. Instantly, Hermione felt something unfamiliar stir in her stomach. She stared, noting his handsome features and the way that his body seemed to crowd hers. In his face, she read determination and coolness, no trace of warmth gazing back at her, just a stare that seemed to burn a hole through her entire being.

"The apartment that you've bought is one of mine." he said, still watching her. Hermione jerked back, appalled.

"You're saying that you own this building?!" He shook his head.

"I own the whole street."

"Oh", She replied weakly.

"I came over two nights ago to welcome the new tenant who had been so eager to buy an apartment," Malfoy said dispassionately. "But when no one answered the door, I entered and saw you looking half dead on the ground." Hermione was flushed to her roots and started to speak but he held up his hand before she could say anything.

"I didn't touch you any more than was necessary. You were picking up a fever so I stripped you down and put you into bed." He continued, almost distastefully.

"Oh God," she groaned, covering her face with her hands.

"You're not the first woman who I've put to bed," said the voice above her, with a trace of amusement.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" She demanded, glaring at him. "Usually a man like you wouldn't hesitate to take advanta-"

"You don't appeal to me and neither does necrophilia," He interrupted coldly before checking his watch and standing up. "I'm late for a meeting. Stay in bed until I get back and don't do anything too stressful." He waved his wand and a tray laden with hot biscuits and tea zoomed in, landing with a soft thump on Hermione's lap.

"Hold on a second," she stammered.

Malfoy turned impatiently, his expression sardonic.

"I appreciate all that you've done for me but I can manage on my own now." She said, attempting to get up. However, before she could do so, she was racked by a bout of coughing. Malfoy cursed, before striding over and sitting beside her, his hand rubbing gentle circles on her back. He stayed with her until the coughing subsided.

"You little fool," he growled, pushing a stray curl away from her face. "Why can't you just accept that you need help!"

Hermione shivered, the events of the last week rushing back to her.

"Ron," she whimpered, the sudden urge to run back to him coursing through her veins. Malfoy sprang off the bed, his eyes alight with fury. His hand tugged at the back of Hermione's curls, forcing her head back to meet his angry expression.

"You don't mention his name in my presence, do you understand?" He bit out. She glared up at him, angry tears glistening in her eyes.

"I'll say his name whenever I damn please!" She cringed at the violence in his face. His hand clenched into a fist before he turned away suddenly and CRACK! He had Apparated to God knew where.

Hermione slowly settled back against the pillows before taking her little teacup into her hands. She sat, brooding. She hadn't seen Malfoy in years and then suddenly he seemed to appear almost continuously in her life. This was no coincidence; he wanted something from her and he was going to get it. She sighed and was suddenly assailed by a wave of dizziness.

 _Hahaha, I'm so sorry to the maybe five people who were invested in this story: I definitely ditched it on purpose because I may or may not have been failing school but I am restarting it if any of you want to stay along for the nonsensical, very implausible ride_ _Cheers!_


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